New York Baby
by 02AngelBaby75
Summary: Charlie encounters a child trying to pick his pocket.
1. Chapter 1

_I wrote this for my little cousin. She gave me a plot and I had to pick my favourite TV show to go along with it. She's doing the same for me, a Doctor Who fic with a plot I wanted, which I will post if I ever see her again. _

_So if this doesn't seem realistic or in character, that's probably because it is unrealistic and out of character. But I'm writing it for her, so here we go!_

_Also, this is my first step into the BE fandom. Be kind, which might be hard to do, because as mentioned, it's a little OOC. _

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><p>From the very moment Charlie woke up that bright and sunny morning in June, he knew it was going to be a bad day. A <em>very <em>bad day indeed.

Now Charlie wasn't necessarily one for looking at the negative side of life. He wasn't exactly an optimist, either. An appropriate way to describe him would merely be a realist, more or less the type who took life as it came. It was vital he stayed calm in all situations to continue the work he was involved with. Stay level-headed, keep his mind clear.

Well, where to begin? His pyjamas were unusually itchy, his blankets he had kicked off in the night were on the floor and he was way too comfortable curled up like a bug in a rug to pick them up, _and_…Yes, of course. A bad hair day. A true, full-blooded Italian boy can sense this within seconds of starting their day and miles away from a mirror.

Since he had nothing important to do on this day until the evening, a meeting with AR, he decided to go outside and get some fresh air, take the advice that apparently cured everything. Although he tried to dismiss it, he couldn't get rid of that awful, sinking feeling in his stomach.

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><p>Charlie had known someone was following him. He'd like to say it had been for quite some time, from the moment this certain someone had begun the stalk, but oddly enough he only just noticed now.<p>

He spun around quickly on his heel, but no one was there, just a young couple walking across the street holding hands, laughing together. For a moment it made Charlie wish he had a girl. Sure, he'd had plenty of girls in his life, but no one special, no one he had known well enough to laugh with.

Suddenly he was pulled out of his thoughts by the unmistakable sound of footsteps, rather frantic ones at that. Again, Charlie looked over his shoulder. Nothing. Then-yes, he saw it this time! He caught the glimpse just out of the corner of his eye. Absolutely someone was tailing him.

_Calm down_, he told himself. He had no idea who was there, but being himself and knowing the risks of his profession, obviously his first reaction would be to panic. But no. He couldn't let whoever this was know they were getting in his head.

It was silent as could be in Central Park as Charlie walked along, casual, enjoying the scenery. He was almost positive by now The Someone had gone away, and he felt his shoulders relax, letting out a breath of relief. When-there were the footsteps!

Charlie stopped walking and turned, absent-mindedly lighting himself a cigarette. Damn, still no one.

The Someone had stopped and hid behind a bush a few yards away when they had seen the man in the nice pinstripe suit turn around. They held back a laugh. He had no idea. They rubbed their hands together anxiously. He had a big wallet.

Charlie soon heard the footfalls again, but this time he ignored them and kept marching on. Soon they turned to a little shuffling sound, and immediately Charlie knew what was going on. He cracked a grin and shook his head in amusement.

The Someone glanced up at the man through the fall of their bangs, before slipping their hand delicately into the man's coat pocket.

Charlie made his move.

The Someone's eyes widened and they froze in mid-snatch. Charlie's hand cupped The Someone's jaw as he frowned heavily, glaring down at them. They carefully slid their hand out of the pocket, never taking their fearful green eyes away from Charlie.

The Someone was not a, 'The,' but a, 'She,' a small girl, with tangled, dirty light blonde hair, a dirty pink dress, and a dirty, frightened face. Instantly, Charlie let her go, with a nagging sense of guilt.

"What gave you the idea you'd get away with that?" he asked, tossing the cigarette to the ground and stomping it under his heel, keeping his gaze on the girl.

She stood shaking, her fingers laced together, kicking the ground with the toe of her boot. Charlie noticed her nose seemed a little crooked, which was strange for a child. It had definitely been broken sometime, at least once. "Um," she muttered in response, "I'm usually p-pretty good at this." She smiled sheepishly, revealing a gaping hole where her left right tooth should have been.

Charlie actually let out a laugh, a short, mean laugh, causing the girl to visibly flinch. "You're good at this, huh?" he sneered.

"Yes," the girl replied, seemingly unaware of the sarcastic undertones. She smiled once more, tilting her head sideways.

"Get outta here, go be good at somethin' in school."

When she simply continued to stare, Charlie sighed loudly and reached for his wallet. The girl watched with interest as he pulled out a green $20 bill. He waved it in front of her nose. She went cross-eyed and this time around Charlie laughed in actual amusement. "Here." He took her hand and opened her fingers up, placing the money in the girl's palm. She make a sound somewhere between a gasp and a snort. She had probably never seen so much money at one time in her life. "Go buy yourself somethin' nice, sweetheart."

The girl's jaw was hanging open in sheer amazement, at a total loss of words. Charlie gently cuffed her chin, and although she felt a little less afraid of him, the girl couldn't help but shrink away at the touch. Her mouth snapped shut. "You're catchin' flies," he said.

"Sorry," she mumbled. At last, the small girl folded the bill into a neat square and tucked it down the side of her blue, worn-out left boot. "Mister, thank you!" she exclaimed, grinning. There was that missing tooth again.  
><em><br>If only she was fifteen years older and had all her teeth_, Charlie thought, with only a hint of seriousness. "Beat it," he said, and continued walking along. _Dumb kid_, he mused. What he would have given to have been one.

The girl began after him again, this time at a longer distance. He could hear her giggling, humming a song way out of tune. If Charlie glanced back, she would leap behind a tree, a bench or a trash can. This had to stop now before it got way out of hand.

"Kid," he called. She dashed behind a tree. "Kid, c'mere."

She slowly peeked from around the tree. She looked about the vicinity suspiciously, then skipped towards Charlie, her pink dress catching the sunlight.

When the girl came to a stop, Charlie pointed the way she had come from. "Go to school, go home, or go away, hmm?"

The girl's face fell, deflated like a sad little balloon. The immense feeling of guilt returned. Why was a little grease ball making him feel worse than he ever had? "You lost, kid?" he inquired.

Her chin was quivering, her eyes welling up to the rims. Briefly, Charlie wondered if anyone had ever done a kind deed for her, but that would be impossible. "Huh? Don't you know where you're goin'?"

"I don't know," she replied sadly, her brows forming a crease between her bright green eyes. "I ran away, and I'm lost now." She raised her hands and covered her eyes.

Charlie sighed, which he noted was not a good habit, and bent down in front of the girl and yanked her small hands away from her face. She whimpered and took a step back.

"Hey." Charlie grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her hard. "There, how are ya?" He smiled a little at her, and she smiled a little back, through her sadness. Then her gaze fell to her feet. Charlie watched as her eyelashes fluttered wildly against her pale, dirt-stained cheeks. She looked like she was about to cry, and that _scared_ him.

Fearing that she would burst into tears like all little kids are supposed to do, he quickly shifted and leaned in closer, tipping her chin upwards gently. "Hey," he asked, "are ya feelin' hungry?"

The girl's eyes brightened. Vigorously, she nodded. "Uh-huh."

Charlie couldn't believe what he was saying. He ran his fingers through his hair as he rose to his feet. "C'mon."

He motioned for her follow him as he turned away from her and started the journey to a nice little Italian restaurant he used to visit in his younger days. The young girl ambled along after him, beginning to hum that ridiculous song once more. Before he knew it, she was right next to him, attempting to wriggle her little hand into his own. He shoved it away, saying, "Hands off, kid."

He looked down and the girl's bottom lip was sticking out. But she didn't try that again.

After a few moments of silence, in which Charlie felt like he was in a dream and he wasn't truly allowing an orphan kid to follow him around, he asked, "Got a name?"

"Yes, I do!" the child chirped happily.

When nothing else followed, Charlie, exasperated, said, "You wanna tell me what it is?"

"Okay." The girl tugged on Charlie's pants leg, and he bit his tongue. He was not one to repeat himself. But there's no way he would let his temper out on a little kid, particularly a lost waif. He stopped and turned around to look at her. The girl pointed to her chest with a thumb. "My name is Lacy Lawrence," she said, kind of quietly, almost as if no one else on Earth besides her and Charlie were to know this information.

"Yeah?" he said, equally as quiet. He took her by the elbow and pulled her onwards.

"Uh-huh," she replied, slightly out of breath. "What's yours, Mister? You must have a big, long, important-sounding name 'cause you must be rich. I could tell from way back there. You must be good at pick-pocketing. You must have gotten a million people-"

"I don't pick pockets and neither should you," Charlie said firmly, squeezing Lacy's arm. "And neither should anyone."

As expected, she yelped and pulled away. Charlie hoped perhaps this would cause her to scurry off, but as usual she skipped back, strolling along beside him like a cockroach, rubbing the bruised area with a wince. "_Owie owie ow_," she murmured. Then, "Why not?"

"It's a dirty business," Charlie said, shrugging his shoulders. "Dirty way to make a living."

"What's your name?" she repeated, gazing up at him with the curiosity only a child could possess. She thought if she could stare at him long enough perhaps his name would magically be written across his face.

"Charles Luciano, but you, you call me Mr. Luciano."

"That must be a fun name to say." Lacy nodded, agreeing with herself. "Luciano. Luciano. Luciano. Lu-"

"Alright, kid, I got it. Ya like my name."

"Do you like mine?" Her eyes went wide and she looked extremely hopeful, tilting her head sideways again, her blonde hair falling, covering her face.

"Sure I do." He almost said there was nothing special about Lacy Lawrence, unless you found _alliteration_ or _something something_ special. Charlie was getting rather annoyed by this pointless conversation. In fact, he would prefer she kept her mouth shut the entire time, but that wasn't going to happen any time soon.

"Oh, good!" Lacy rubbed the sore spot on her arm again, subtly, afraid her new-found friend would notice.

What had Charlie gone and gotten himself into this time?


	2. Chapter 2

Charlie watched her silently as the pick-pocket crunched and chewed contentedly on her fourth slice of pizza with extra black olives, dangling her small legs that weren't even close to reaching the floor. Occasionally she would kick his leg but he would ignore it. Not her fault.

"Jeez, kid, I ain't ever seen someone eat so much at once," Charlie said honestly, flicking some ashes from his cigarette.

Lacy opened her mouth and let out a deafening belch from the deepest depths of her belly that would have put the likes of Al Capone to shame. "Oops!" A furious blush spread across her cheeks. She slapped a hand over her mouth and closed her eyes, embarrassed beyond belief.

"Hey." Charlie hit his hand on the table. Lacy cringed and said through her hands, "It was an _accident_."

"I never said it wasn't. Excuse yourself."

"Excusee," Lacy said, smiling.

In the hour or so Charlie and Lacy had spent together, he had learned seven somewhat important or interesting things: Lacy lived with her mother, by whom he could assume was an old drunk, her father died in a, "Big fight," which he assumed was the war, she had a baby brother named Tommy, she loved the colors pink and green, she'd never been to school, which obviously meant she could not read or write, and she still had the teddy bear given to her the day she was born, which was the best day of the year, July 4th. But most blatantly, he had learned this kid could _eat._

But what was he going to do with her? He didn't want her…_here_ with him much longer. This 'date' had already gone way longer than he had anticipated. He had places to go, people to see, business to conduct. He couldn't spend all day…_babysitting_. He had already delicately approached the subject of getting her home, and her face abruptly drained of any happiness, and Charlie quickly changed the subject, asking something like," What are your goals in life, sunshine?"

Lacy contemplated this for a little while, oddly picking the peperoni off the pizza, which Charlie noted said nothing. She frowned and made a small disapproving noise. "What's,' goals' mean?" she wondered.

Charlie thought for a moment. "Stuff you wanna do before you die," he explained in the simplest way he was able to manage.

"Oh!" Lacy nodded as if something inside of her head clicked and everything all of a sudden make clear sense. "I get it!" She smiled at him and it was the sweetest smile he had seen in a _very_ long time. Plenty of smiles had been directed his way before, but this felt like the first, made of angel fleece. Then she said, "I wanna marry someone like you!"

Charlie nearly choked on his coffee.

"Uh-huh," Lacy said, picking off the last piece of peperoni and setting it on top of the pile beside her plate. "And you know what else? I wanna go to school and I wanna see an elephant. But I wanna marry someone like you." They looked at each other evenly for several seconds; neither one blinking until suddenly, she spoke again, leaning in close towards Charlie as if she were whispering to him a deep, dark secret. "_Are you married_?"

At this, Charlie let a large smile spread over his features, his brown eyes dancing with genuine amusement of the likes he hadn't felt in quite a while. "No, honey, I'm not. Are you?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Lacy made a face between a smile and a frown. "I'm not, either," she whispered, chewing on her thumb. She rested her chin in her hands and said, "Do you wanna marry _me_?"

This time Charlie _did _choke on his coffee. "Well," he said, looking at his folded hands, "baby face, there's only room for one woman in my heart." He made a fist over his chest. "My mama, bless her soul."

Lacy scowled deeply, her brow knitting together in anger, crossing her arms. She _harrumphed _and turned away from Charlie, who was still giggling in enjoyment at the pick-pocket. A hand over his mouth was all that kept him from bursting into hysterical laughter at the sight of the pouting child. "What's the matter?" he laughed. "Huh?" He shook her shoulder lightly.

Lacy bowed her head.

"Aw, don't be that way," he chuckled. "C'mere." Charlie, though it was a strange thing to admit, very much disliked people being unhappy around him. It had never seemed like his job to cheer them up until just now. "Look at me, baby girl. There are better guys out there than me. How old are you?"

A small smile began to tug at the corners of Lacy's mouth. Charlie knew he had her now.

"Eight in November," she said.

"Oh, like me. So see? Don't you even start lookin' at boys 'till you're eighteen. And when you do marry someone, make sure he treats ya like a princess. Make sure he stops ya from picking pockets. You deserve better than that." Again, Charlie was baffled at what he was babbling on and on about. But he couldn't seem to stop himself.

Finally, Lacy broke. "Okay, I promise!" She spat into her hand and reached across the table for a handshake, green eyes wide and hopeful.

Charlie sighed in annoyance and slight disgust. He reached into his vest pocket, pulling out his trusty handkerchief and wrapping it around his hand. He then shook with Lacy, who hardly seemed to care or even take note. Charlie was surprised at how large his hands were. It swallowed Lacy's up in his grip, just disappearing.

"You done your sulkin'?" Charlie asked, rising to his feet to take the kid home, or…_away from him_.

"Sure," Lacy said, clearly having no idea what the meaning of the word, but agreeing with whatever Charlie had to say.

"Good girl." Charlie restrained a small smile and an eye roll as he led her out of his childhood hangout and back onto the streets of New York.

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><p>The house was barely three blocks away from Central Park, a dingy white square itself, a large backyard with half green, half brown grass and a tricycle lying by the dying maple tree. "My home," Lacy said, stretching her arms out in pride. "Come on, Mr. Luciano, you can meet my mama and Tommy-"<p>

"I gotta go, sweetheart," Charlie told her. Not to his surprise, her eyes watered and her lip quivered, sticking out like a shelf.

"Hey." He placed his hand on top of her head and left it there. "Remember-no boys 'till you turn eighteen, stop pickin' pockets and start makin' clean money, and keep your chin up."

Lacy nodded, no longer grimacing, but not exactly smiling, either. "Okay. Bye-bye."

And just like that, the pick-pocket was gone, bounding down the walkway, up the steps, and into her home just like that, never looking back or slowing down.

The rest of Charlie's day went as any other day would have gone, and honestly he had never realized how dull his life was. The only highlight was at Arnold's when he was carrying his usual glass of milk to him and tripped over the carpet, nearly spilling it all over the floor but catching it at the _last second_. He had a good laugh, but he didn't laugh nearly as hard as he had at the sight of Lacy Lawrence angry in the corner.

That night at Charlie settled in under his silk sheets in his nice, cozy bedroom, he wondered what it would be like to be poor again. Little Lacy reminded him so much of him when he was young, a dirty street urchin worthy of no one's respect. He still looked in the mirror from time to time and seen that young teenager again, seen those sad eyes of his and hid filthy face and clothes for a split second. From time to time that's _all_ he could see, _all_ day.

If only someone would have been kind to him at that young age like he was to Lacy. Even just once would have meant more than the world to him. He felt a weird, tingly sensation in the pit of his stomach at the thought. He must have made her life.

Charlie fell asleep, somehow feeling a tremendous amount better about the world.


End file.
